


Beauty

by casey2y5



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, PTSD RECOVERY, Post TWS, memory recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey2y5/pseuds/casey2y5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wants to do something for Steve. He knows he can't draw but he has other ideas. Some of them even manage to follow him to 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty

Bucky knew he was going to snap another pen if he wasn’t careful. He used to be able to do this, that much he did know. Somehow the poems he wrote for Steve had survived, hidden away for decades by SHIELD, lest the truth about their relationship leak out he supposed, and recovered miraculously after their fall.  He had the sense that there were more notebooks, more stories that he couldn’t quite remember. He wasn’t sure.

He recognized his own handwriting, still mostly unchanged after seventy years, but he had no memory of actually writing what he had read. The plastic casing of the pen cracked and he cursed. He had let his mind wander too far again.  He let out a frustrated groan and fell forward onto the desk. Then there were Steve’s light footfalls and strong hands resting on his shoulders.

“What do you need?” he snapped, harsher than he meant.

Steve spun the chair around and coaxed him to standing, wrapping him up tight in arms that still felt too big. Bucky found his face pressed into the crook of Steve’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, the familiar scent comforting. Some things hadn’t changed at least.

“You don’t have to force it, Buck. It might not come back.”

“It’s in there, Steve. I remember I wrote these poems. I can feel it. I just need to find it again.” Bucky closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him.

*****

Bucky knew Steve had been deliberate about it, leaving his sketchbook open to that page on the kitchen table. Steve knew he’d see it, and that it would be long before Steve got up. It was a drawing of him, sitting on the fire escape, legs dangling over the edge, watching the city below them. Steve must have drawn it from the perch on his windowsill behind him. He resisted the urge to touch it, knowing it would smear the graphite.

The next morning there was another drawing, this time of his face. He was asleep and knew Steve must have stayed up late finishing it. In the corner there was a title already written- _Beauty_. A sudden pang went through Bucky and he wished that there was something he could do for Steve. Wished that he some sort of talent that would mean something to him.

He stopped by the store after work, change jingling in his pocket. He realized that he should probably feel more guilty about spending the money on this. Still he found the notebook and pencils and handed over the money. He slid them into his pocket and chewed his lip the rest of the way home. He could smell dinner cooking even before he managed to jimmy their sticky lock open. Steve looked over his shoulder as soon as the door opened and Bucky could feel his eyes on him as he toed his boots off.

“Keep starin’ like that and you’re gonna burn the place down,” Bucky said.

Steve laughed, and turned stirring whatever was in the pot. Bucky went up behind him, putting the spoon back on it’s rest and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Thought it was going to burn anyway.  You’re late.”

“Sorry. You manage to sell anything today?”

“Couple sketches. Not enough to cover anything.”

“Even if it’s another bag of beans, its something.”

Steve choked out a laugh before wiggling his way out of Bucky’s arms.

“Right. Just what we need.”

“Still got a few minutes before it’s done?”

“Sure. It’ll be mush if you don’t hurry.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Bucky slid into their shared bedroom, tugging his shirt off, and tossing it, along with seawater soaked socks into the pile of dirty laundry. He pulled the notebook and pencils out of his jacket and cracked it open, looking at the blank page. When he heard the clank of the spoon against the stove he nearly jumped out of his skin. He quickly shoved them underneath the mattress and went to go eat.

He couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Originally he had thought about learning to draw, but he knew that wouldn’t work. He didn’t have the natural talent Steve did, no matter how much they shared the cost of the occasional art class. Steve sat that night sketchbook on his lap, legs stretched out over Bucky’s while Bucky sat and watched him draw, lost in his own thoughts. He had an idea for it. With that in mind he brushed his fingers against the soles of Steve’s feet, making him jump, distracting him enough for Bucky to crawl across the bed and pull him into a kiss.

Despite the nearly daily drawings that neither of them never spoke of, the notebook stayed underneath the mattress for a shamefully long time, his plans gnawing at the back of his head. He wasn’t sure he could manage what he wanted to do. The last time he wrote anything was probably sometime before he dropped out of school. He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of failing himself or Steve. Still eventually as it warmed up and more people were out Steve went down to Coney Island on a Saturday to try and sell some drawings and he was alone for the day. It wouldn’t hurt to try. He sharpened a pencil carefully and pulled the notebook out.

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the blank page before anything came to him.

_See you how you see me_

_Strands of light dancing_

_Across your face_

_Early morning rest_

_Still safe in my arms_

__

_Never expect you to come home_

_Don’t see the reasons you stay_

_Here with me_

_Still safe in my arms_

__

_Tug you close_

_When I see you standing_

_In the doorway_

_Want to bring you closer_

_Wait for the morning light_

_When I know you’ll be_

_Still safe in my arms_

__

It was stiff, Bucky thought, even to his untrained eye but he thought he could get better. He still wanted to put this one out for Steve

*****

“Bucky,Buck!”

Bucky looked up at Steve, startled. It was 2015. He was in Washington DC. He had broken a pen with his metal arm.

“Sorry. Got caught up.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine. What did you remember?”

“The first poem I wrote for you.”

“I remember it. That notebook made the mattress lumpier than it already was.”

“You knew?”

“Course I did. Just didn’t want to scare you off. Besides who else was going to leave poetry actually in my shoes.”

Bucky looked at him incredulously for a moment before laughing. Steve gripped his flesh shoulder and smiled at him.

“I have to do this, Steve.”

“I know. Just don’t push it too much alright?”

“I think I know what I’m going to write about now.”

“Alright.” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head and ran his hand through the long strands, before turning to leave the room.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You want to get stuff from that Chinese place tonight?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Not beef.”

“So you don’t care.”

“Not really.”

“I’ll go pick it up,” Steve said already looking for his jacket and wallet. He knew Bucky wanted him out of the way and he could always order on his phone.

“Thanks.”

Bucky stood and threw the ruined pen away before grabbing a new one. He remembered.

_Bring me back_

_From the dead_

_Remind me who I am_

__

_Used to keep you safe_

_Shivering in my arms_

__

_Wake up in the night_

_Forget who I am_

_When I am_

_But you’re there_

_Snug against me_

__

_Used to keep you safe_

_Shivering in my arms_

__

_Days of thin mattresses_

_No heat_

_Passed while I was sleeping_

_First thing  remember is you_

__

_Used to keep you safe_

_Shivering in my arms_

__

_Need you now_

_More than I dd_

_Remind me who I am_

_Keep me safe_

_Shivering in your arms_

__


End file.
